


Recovery

by deathlypassion96



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Mental Health Issues, Multi, Post-Hogwarts, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, St Mungo's Hospital, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,329
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917036
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deathlypassion96/pseuds/deathlypassion96
Summary: "When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you," the mind healers had said in a vain attempt to quash the 'conspiracy' concocted by a paranoid mind. The mind healers said a lot of things. None of which were remotely interesting or useful. They didn't get it. They didn't lie awake at night listening to the screams of children now orphaned. They didn't see the light leave someone's eyes every time they closed their own. They didn't survive





	Recovery

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading if you choose to! Feel free to leave any constructive criticism and all that jazz.

****

Blood trickled down the shattered glass and the swollen fist that delivered the blow. A bloody hand ran through wild hair and a cry echoed in the night. When would it end? The voices hissed inside a vulnerable mind as the world moved on blissfully unaware. The sweat drenched nightmares returned night after night to reclaim their victim. Tainted and twisted memories on repeat submerged a broken soul time and time again as society rebuilt.   
  
A trail of devastation and grief was left by the war but five years later, things were settling and people were breathing freely and without worry for the first time in over a decade. The fall of Voldemort was deemed too good to be true by so many who had not fought in the battle of hogwarts and even some of those who had were traumatised and feared his return but Shacklebolt had been the breath of fresh air that the ministry so desperately needed and his hard work and determination was slowly but surely gluing everyone back together as a society. Well, almost everyone.   
  
"When there is no enemy within, the enemies outside cannot hurt you," the mind healers had said in a vain attempt to quash the 'conspiracy' concocted by a paranoid mind. The mind healers said a lot of things. None of which were remotely interesting or useful. They didn't get it. They didn't lie awake at night listening to the screams of children now orphaned. They didn't see the light leave someone's eyes every time they closed their own. They didn't survive.    
  
Irony was not lost on him as the realisation that he'd spent most of his life living as a muggle and would die as one; no magic, no encore. The tranquillisers were no harder to swallow than the guilt he swallowed every day. The vodka burned and numbed all at once. Consciousness teased him, frolicking backwards and forwards before finally evading him.

 

The lifeless body slumped in Ginny’s fragile arms as she attempted to focus her mind enough on Apparition in the hope that she wouldn't splinch either of them. 

 

“Come on Harry. Don't leave me now,” she whispered before the dingy room disappeared and St Mungos appeared. 

 

Blurs of people and noises around her escaped Ginny as she awaited news about Harry. She couldn't believe he had been so fucking stupid. They had a family. They loved each other didn't they?

 

“Mrs Potter, can you hear me?” A tall, light healer snapped her back into the reality of where she was and it took longer than it should have to recognise the voice. Malfoy. Could this night get any worse?

 

She focused her attention on the cool, grey eyes that delivered updates about her husband’s health. They had restarted his heart and had been able to pump his stomach and use complicated healing magic to extract any poison left in his bloodstream but it would be a long and painful recovery due to the amount swallowed. Harry was looking to be here for at least a month. 

 

“Your husbands physical health is not what is most concerning to us which is why I am here. You may or may not know this but I am a mind healer mrs Potter and we will not be releasing Harry until his mental health is addressed and he makes progress with regards to it..”

 

“I want a different healer. I don't trust you not to interfere with Harry and make him worse than he already is Malfoy.” Ginny interrupted coldly. 

 

Disdain dripped from Malfoy's words as he assured her that he was the best mind healer in the country and Harry's only option to a full recovery. 

 

“I am insulted that you think a school boy feud would come between myself and the oath I took to preserve and encourage mental health Ginerva but I am not surprised. It seems not all of us have grown up since Hogwarts. There is nothing more you can do here this evening, you'd be as well to go home.” He didn't give her the time to reply as he turned his back and walked calmly towards Harry's room. 

 

Weeks went past with no advances in Harry's mental health. He was almost entirely physically healthy but still would not talk about the war or his PTSD. If anything, he seemed to be deteriorating and had now stopped any visitors from coming near his room including his wife and children. The only improvement was that he had stopped trying to curse Draco every time he entered the clinical, pastel green room. 

 

Draco had also softened in his attitude to Harry in the past weeks as even although what he had said to Ginny was true, on a personal level, there would always be tension between the two men but Draco would not allow it to compromise another wizard’s state of mind and so he worked tirelessly on the case, ensuring to visit Harry every day. He would read the owls that Harry had been sent and the daily prophet to him before trying to engage Harry in a personal conversation. At which, Harry would look away and refuse to say another word. Every day. 

 

Draco stood behind the one way window looking into Harry's room on the 31st day that Harry remained in St Mungos and studied the man. A man indeed. Draco couldn't help but notice how he'd grown into his, what once had been, scrawny figure and the messy hair that had always infuriated Draco now hung quite ruggedly around his chiseled features. He watched Harry's thumbs draw the same pattern on the opposing wrist over and over again and he thought about his own experiences of the war. It had taken Draco almost a year to resurface from the manor after Voldemort fell. He too had suffered but he had thrown himself into training and working towards trying to make a difference and compensate for his part in the war whilst Harry had succumbed to the aftermath. And yet, he could not see Harry as weak as he thought he would. This was a man who had defeated the dark lord and ended the war where the entirety of the ministry had failed. He would share his experiences and feelings with Harry and even if Harry didn't respond, at least he would know that Draco had changed and was someone who could be trusted.

 

Harry faced the charmed window for three hours without uttering a word or making eye contact whilst the unusually soft voice spoke to him. Draco would probably think that Harry was ignoring him like he did every day but he soaked up every word and analysed the meaning behind the words. He would not have thought it possible for a death eater to change but on reflection of the change within himself in the last five years, he accepted it. Draco had changed positively and recovered from the war, or so it seemed: But there was something so fragile and vulnerable in his words. He was remorseful for the damage he'd caused and entirely genuine and for the first time in five years Harry was not on edge. He felt connected to the man who sat beside him canvassing his soul so openly. He too had suffered and could understand. Couldn't he? 

 

Draco inhaled deeply as the words ran dry. He had never opened up so completely to another person and he felt as though a huge weight had been lifted from the core of his being. He glanced at Harry who was still fixated on the birds who danced freely in the charmed window and fought the overwhelming need to sob. Calmly, he stood without uttering a word and maintained the breathing pattern he was following before turning to walk away from someone who, in his opinion, had died in the war. Waves of hopelessness washed over Draco as he came to the dawning realisation that not everyone could be saved from themselves. Trembling against every fibre of his will, he reached for his wand to break the wards on the door temporarily to pass through when a nerve calm voice said, “Wait, please.” 

 

Harry broke through that day and the process was started. Draco spent most of the week in Harry's room whilst he delved into the depths of himself and was able to talk about the war. The loss. The regret. The guilt. The pain. He had a long way to go but he had made that all important first step and Draco had taken it with him. He wasn't entirely shocked to learn that Harry felt nothing but contempt towards his wife who just did not understand what Harry had been through and was still going through. After the war, she had been so focused on her own loss and grief, that Harry hadn't been able to process his own until it was too late and it had consumed him. He loved his children but they were an aching reminder of the lie he was living in and it wasn't fair. Not to them or him. 

 

Another two weeks of progress passed by and Harry had now allowed Ginny to visit him as he had felt ready to discuss their relationship and the black void between them. Draco had watched from the window, unseen as the couple screamed, fought, cried and ultimately separated in what must have been the most grueling seven hours for both of them. Ginny left that day and did not return. She had assured him that when Harry was fit and well again, James and Lily, would be allowed to see him at a neutral place. Draco could see how worn Harry was after she left and was in two minds whether to enter the room but Harry's piercing eyes caught his in the window and even though Harry could not see him, he must have known that Draco was there, waiting and so he entered the room.

 

“I'm not an idiot Draco, I know the window is one way. How much time do you spend on the other end taking notes about the likelihood of me drowning myself in the shower?” He teased weakly.

 

Draco said nothing, sitting on the edge of Harry's bed but watching his expression carefully. He extended his shaking hand gently and placed it on top of the scarred one belonging to Harry and their eyes met again. Cool, deep grey versus bright, piercing green. A single tear escaped Harry's left eye and rolled gently down his cheek as the truth concealed in his last joke rang loudly in both men’s minds. Harry sat up and embraced Draco before the floods of tears emerged from his eyes and he clung to the other man helplessly and desperately and in that moment, they understood each other perfectly.

 

When Harry had cried and cried until there were no tears left, he had drifted into a light sleep on Draco's shoulder. Draco had tried to rearrange him and remove himself to allow Harry the much needed rest he deserved but found himself lying side by side with Harry when the sleeping man's arm pulled him closer and wrapped around him. For the first time in months, Draco's mind slowed and he drifted off into a peaceful sleep - no potion required.

 

Another two weeks passed and Harry only improved. Both men were dependant on each other in recovery from the war and Harry had taught Draco that ignoring his pain did not mean it was non existent. Harry would always be traumatised from the war but the difference in him from when he had been admitted to St Mungos was remarkable. He was now conversing with the nurses and other patients as he had been moved into a room with 3 other wizards due to the vast improvement in his health. Draco knew it was only a matter of time before Harry was discharged and he was genuinely happy for him but he couldn't shake the stab of disappointment that ate away at him every time Harry spoke of a new life outside of St Mungos. Where did this leave him? Would Harry still want Draco in his life? They had bonded unbelievably in the two months that Harry had been a patient and Draco wanted more than a friendship in the future. He thought Harry did too but would this seemingly too good to be true break that both of them had found die once Harry no longer needed him? Draco decided that as open as he had been with Harry and how comfortable he was with him, a letter would serve his purpose more and that way he could ensure Harry didn't feel obliged by a face to face confrontation and Draco's emotions wouldn't be damaged publicly. 

 

He waited until Harry had fallen asleep on his shoulder a few evenings later and after untangling himself from the man's arms, left the letter by his bed.

 

_ “H. _

 

_ Do not think me a coward for addressing this in a letter. I felt that regardless of the outcome, this was my only possible way of reaching out to you. It will not be long before you are discharged from St Mungos and begin a new life outside of these four walls and I am grateful that I have been a part of your recovery as I have gotten to know you and found great companionship with you; However, I seek more. I want to be a part of your life and your recovery outside of this hospital. We'd be starting from zero and have nothing to lose. Maybe we'll make something. Finally see what it means to be living. If this is as far as it goes for you; I'll understand and always carry fond memories of you with me. I shall see you at 1pm for your final assessment and we can discuss it from there. _

 

_ Yours always, _

_ D.” _


End file.
